


V-Day

by sheepishwolfy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25725976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepishwolfy/pseuds/sheepishwolfy
Summary: “Drifting isn’t exactly my strong suit,” Gavin muttered. “Look, this is just something I do for fun sometimes, it’s not life or death. I’ve got no desire to be a pilot.”“That’s unfortunate,” Connor said, eyes on the monitor. The simulator screens lit up again, loading whatever parameters Connor had set. “You’d be a great one. You’re creative and efficient. You’re welcome to join me now, if you’re interested.”--Valentine's Day is just another day when you're trying to stop the apocalypse. That is, of course, until it isn't. Over five years of V-days, Gavin and Connor move from uneasy colleagues to drift-compatible partners to something a little more complicated. Written for the 2020 Convin Secret Santa in July.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	V-Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kuinshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuinshi/gifts).



> For this summer's Convin Secret Santa i was given the lovely, incomparable Kuinshi, whom you should follow on [tumblr](https://kuinshi.tumblr.com/) and [twitter,](https://twitter.com/_kuinshi) because her art is bomb and her heart is gold. she requested a Pacific Rim AU, and i was more than happy to oblige, because that is my FAVORITE movie. i hope you love it bb!! happy christmas in july (four days late because of who i am as a person)

FEBRUARY 14, 2020 01:22AM  
SHATTERDOME LOS ANGELES  
JAEGERS: 7  
SUPPORT STAFF: 3400

The Shatterdome never truly slept, but after midnight it settled. Most of the staff went to bed at semi-reasonable hours, the graveyard shift sequestered to their stations. Gavin found that somewhere between midnight and one was the best time to visit the simulators. This late, no one was around to tell him he was wasting his time.

Gavin was a mechanic, he enjoyed being a mechanic. In the morning—well, when the sun rose—Gavin would be taking charge of SDLA’s newest and most advanced jaeger. It was a career high, a stepping stone to eventually taking over the entire jaeger floor. There was little he loved more than repairing and maintaining the colossal mechs.

Just, sometimes, he wished he could also pilot one.

Unfortunately that hadn’t shaken out. Which was okay. It had to be okay. The alternative was wallowing in misery and letting some other dipshit do the complex engineering required to keep the jaegers humming along, and that was un-fucking-tenable. So, instead, once or twice a month, he would sneak down to the training floors and visit the K-simulation room. On nights like this one, when he was particularly stressed out or overworked. Beating the absolute shit out of an imaginary kaiju was his version of an aromatherapy candle and a nap.

When he arrived, the room was dark but for the dim glow of indicator lights on the equipment. Gavin left it that way, he’d been here often enough over the last four years to navigate without turning on the harsh overheads. He went to the control panel in the corner, found the switch on the side, flipped it on. The monitor bloomed bright in the darkness, an older LED screen rather than the holographic projections found in LOCCENT.

Gavin swiped his card through the CAC reader on the side of the keyboard. A few quick key commands brought him to the simulation setup, prompting him to choose from a list of jaegers, kaiju, and coastal cities. He clicked his tongue, considering.

Horizon Brave was an easy choice for jaegers—he preferred the heavier models, the weight of their movement and the satisfying brutality of their combat. Kaiju he had less of a preference. It wasn’t as though the real pilots could choose what the Breach spat out on any given day. Flicking the scroll wheel, he wound up with Hammerjaw. A good match, just as stocky and close-range as Horizon. As he did every time, Gavin queued up Los Angeles as their drop zone. May as well keep it familiar. He randomized weather conditions, then hit start.

While the computer compiled his choices and built the simulation, Gavin stepped into the simulator itself. A converted air force flight simulator, the small cockpit consisted of joysticks mounted on jointed armature to imitate the range of motion in a jaeger conn pod. VR visors attached to the roof served as proxy helmets. Optional pons headsets were available for compatible pilot teams to access the Drift while training. Gavin spared a scowl for the pons as he tugged the visor down from its mount.

Slipping the visor over his eyes, Gavin blinked several times as the program started, brighter than he anticipated. OS information scrolled across his vision in neon green. Soon enough a latticework skyline spread out before him. The structures were then overlaid by a grayscale skin, followed low-res renders which quickly sharpened into an exact 1:1 replica of Los Angeles as viewed from the Shatterdome launch bays.

Hammerjaw appeared next, blinking out of nothingness to T-pose in the middle of the bay. The phantom kaiju stuttered a few times, skeletal mesh contorting oddly before settling into a more natural posture. Overhead, the sun skated at impossible speed til it hit near-dusk, lighting everything in soft pinks and oranges. Nothing quite like Golden Hour for fighting 2000-ton alien hellbeasts.

Finally the rest of the conn pod materialized, encapsulating Gavin in Horizon Brave’s steelwork interior.

The control console let out an incongruously pleasant chime, followed by the placid voice of the Shatterdome AI. “ _Your simulation is ready. Initiate neural handshake to begin_.”

“ _Initiate neural handshake_ ,” Gavin muttered, in bitter mockery of the AI. He would, as usual, be working with a computerized partner. Looking to his left, he saw the featureless person in an old-model drive suit, silently awaiting Gavin’s lead. Didn't have to worry about the handshake when your copilot didn't have neurons.

Drift compatibility had proven difficult for him at the academy. He’d passed every technical assessment with flying colors, but when it came to pairing off with another person to execute the Drift, Gavin faltered. Neural interfaces were stuttered and brief, if they made it past the initial handshake at all. The instructors said it was because he was too stubborn and combative, too closed off. He argued, which only proved their point.

A prompt appeared in his HUD, a repeat of the AI’s instructions. Grasping the joystick, Gavin thumbed the button on the side to begin the program.

Soon as it was activated, the kaiju hurled itself towards the city, cutting through the water like a knife through butter. Gavin charged to intercept, wasting no time with planning before he engaged. Horizon was considerably slower than the highly mobile Hammerjaw, but Gavin still managed to make contact before the kaiju got much past the beach. He shoulder-checked the beast, sent it sprawling back into the shallows.

Hammerjaw recovered quickly, coiling back like a snake before launching head-first into Horizon’s chest. When Hammerjaw—aptly named—reared back to bring its outsized lower mandible down on Horizon’s con pod, Gavin shot an arm out to catch the kaiju by its throat.

Unlike most real pilots, Gavin didn’t yell out his actions before committing to them. While Horizon’s other fist slammed twice into the kaiju’s softer underbelly, venting coolant with each strike, Gavin kept the “sub-zero suckerpunch” to himself. He fought quietly, a single-minded focus on dealing as much damage in as little time as possible.

Wailing, Hammerjaw wrenched free and swung that heavy head sideways to connect with Horizon’s exposed flank. The jaeger stumbled, but brought its raised arm down in time to catch Hammerjaw in a headlock. Gavin continued raining down supercooled blows, frost crackling across the creature’s thick hide. Clawed hands scrabbled at Horizon’s armor, catching and tearing away whole plates of reinforced steel. Errors bloomed bloody red in Gavin’s HUD, but he kept his grip.

Hammerjaw screamed and writhed, blue blood welling up between the frozen cracks in its skin. The viscous fluid clung to Horizon’s metal fists, droplets the size of minivans flinging into the ocean with each savage blow. The kaiju continued rending at Horizon’s sides and back, whatever it could reach with its rapidly flagging strength.

What it could reach was Horizon's now-exposed reactor. An especially urgent warning appeared when a section of heat shielding was shredded like so much paper. The AI was no longer calm as it warned of imminent, catastrophic meltdown if Horizon’s nuclear core wasn’t shut down immediately. He had 45 seconds to end this. Either way the jaeger was a loss--now it was just a matter of who would die first.

Gavin drew back for one final hit, aiming for the space between Hammerjaw’s jaw and armored shoulder. Horizon’s spiked fist wedged under the kaiju’s chin, venting every ounce of coolant left to their reservoirs into the kaiju's throat. Hammerjaw’s skin flash-froze. A sharp twist of Horizon’s upper torso snapped the brittle flesh, Hammerjaw’s body going immediately slack as its head was almost totally separated from its body. Icicles of kaiju blue rained into the sea, staining the water and the white sands of the beach.

With six seconds left to the clock, Gavin initiated reactor shutdown. Emergency venting blasted steam from every opening in the jaeger’s body. He prayed it was enough. That final six seconds lasted a lifetime, Gavin willing the reactor warnings to turn green with every fiber of his being.

Like something out of a shitty action movie, the meltdown warnings ceased when the timer hit 1 second. Gavin expelled an enormous sigh of relief as SIMULATION SUCCESSFUL flashed across his HUD in glowing block letters.

The whole thing lasted maybe fifteen minutes, especially quick and dirty. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck as he removed the VR visor, reached to hang it back in place.

“That was _messy._ ”

Gavin let out an embarrassingly shrill squeal at the disdainful voice in the darkness.

“Shit—fuck—” he hissed, fumbling and nearly dropping the visor. He caught it, barely, the (very expensive) visor dangling from the tip of his middle finger a scant two inches from the concrete floor. With extreme care, he hung it in place before turning to face the mystery speaker. “Who in the _fuck..?_ ”

There was a man perched on the edge of the control desk. Hard to make out his features backlit by the VR feeds, but he was tall and pale and vaguely familiar. “You’re not a pilot, are you?”

“Neither are you,” Gavin said, incredulous. SDLA had 12 pilots, all of whom he was more than familiar with. This man was _not_ one of them.

Unless—

“I am, actually,” the man said, a stunning amount of condescension in those three words. He pushed up off the desk, crossing the short distance to stand just inside Gavin’s personal space. “Connor Stern,” he said, extending a hand. “I’ll be piloting Refractor Kiln.”

Gavin stared dumbly at the offered hand. Of course. He’d had a glance at the pilot dossiers, but didn’t read them too closely. He knew only that Refractor’s pilots were the twin sons of SDLA’s lead K-science expert, the geneticist Dr. Amanda Stern. Explained why he was also somewhat familiar: he looked almost exactly like Niles, Dr. Stern’s youngest and her brilliant right hand in the lab.

For some reason, it had never clicked in his mind that they would be the same Stern twins who had four solo drops in two years under their belt. Rising stars in the PPDC, of course they’d be given the newest jaeger.

“And you are...?” Connor prompted, leaning fractionally closer.

“Uh, Gavin,” Gavin stammered, finally taking the other man’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “Reed. I’ll be maintaining your jaeger.”

“Really,” Connor said, leaning back in mild surprise. When they released their hands, he folded his primly behind his back. “An engineer. That’s unexpected.” 

Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“I mean no offense,” Connor said. Gavin doubted that very much. “It’s simply… as someone with, I assume, intimate knowledge of what a jaeger is capable of that you might have a little more respect.”

“How is that _not_ offensive?” Gavin asked. 

“Because it’s a statement of fact,” Connor said, shrugging. “You treated that jaeger like a tool, rather than as an extension of yourself.”

Gavin frowned. “They are tools.”

“I suppose in the same way a perfectly-sighted sniper rifle could be considered a tool,” Connor said. The entire time he’d been speaking, he bore a gratingly pleasant little smile on his face. “And yet you used Horizon like a six billion dollar baseball bat with nails pounded through it.”

It took a colossal amount of effort for Gavin not to roll his eyes. Typical cocky pilot shit. “Does the method matter all that much? I don’t know if you noticed, but I got the job done.”

“I did notice. And if that was a real drop, you would have irradiated all of Santa Monica when your reactor exploded,” Connor replied calmly. “Not to mention the several metric tons of kaiju blue you dumped directly onto the beach.”

“The reactor didn’t explode,” Gavin said. “Trust me, buddy, I know what a jaeger is capable of. I shut it down in time.”

“Simulations always err on the side of the pilot. Especially solo, since the point is acclimating to systems rather than mimicking accurate combat scenarios,” Connor said. He gestured to the feed that still read “Simulation Successful” over the battered remains of Hammerjaw and Horizon Brave. “Real life? That would’ve been an unmitigated disaster.”

“Okay, is there a reason you’re here, or do you just enjoy being a nitpicky douche?” Gavin asked. Irritation and exhaustion were creeping in at the edges, making him snippier than he’d like.

“Personally I thought I’d get a last round in before the real launch tomorrow. Being a nitpicky douche is more of a casual hobby,” Connor laughed. His good-natured acceptance of Gavin’s pissy attitude only made Gavin pissier. “What are _you_ here for?”

“This isn’t _for_ anything, I’m not a pilot.”

Connor laughed, a sharp huff of air through his nose. “Yeah, and I can see why.”

Giving in and finally rolling his eyes, Gavin turned to leave.“Alright, goodnight.”

He was nearly at the door when Connor called him back. “Wait, Reed, hang on.”

Gavin sighed, half-turned back. “What, thought of some other backhanded shit to say?”

“No,” Connor said. He looked down, toying with his watchband as he considered. “Your instincts are good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Gavin said, suspicious.

“I’m serious. That’s probably the fastest kaiju elimination I’ve ever seen, even simulated,” Connor continued. “Your approach could use a little work, but the basics are sound.”

Gavin scuffed a boot against the concrete, hands on his hips, unsure of what to do with the sudden praise. Attempt at praise, anyway. “Um, okay.”

“A piece of advice, for next time?”

“Sure, why not,” Gavin said, splaying his hands.

“Use a human partner.” Connor circled around the workstation. A few key commands reset the simulation, the VR stream going black and shrouding the room in near-darkness once more. “A second set of eyes keeps you aware of your surroundings. Gives you a little mindfulness beyond _kill the kaiju_.”

“Drifting isn’t exactly my strong suit,” Gavin muttered. “Look, this is just something I do for fun sometimes, it’s not life or death. I’ve got no desire to be a pilot.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Connor said, eyes on the monitor. The simulator screens lit up again, loading whatever parameters Connor had set. “You’d be a great one. You’re creative and efficient. You’re welcome to join me now, if you’re interested.”

Something like pride flared beneath Gavin’s ribs. He needed to take that feeling and leave before he embarrassed himself by fucking up a drift. “Thanks, but I need to get to bed. Busy day tomorrow—well. Today.”

“Suit yourself,” Connor said. He looked up from the monitor, winked. “Maybe next time.”

“Uh, yeah, maybe.” Suddenly Gavin felt sweaty with more than just exertion. He mumbled a hasty “ _bye_ ” and hustled out the door.

* * *

14 FEBRUARY 2020, 07:45AM  
SDLA HELIPAD

Visibility was shit. Fog burrowed into every crevice of the helipad, clung low to the water beyond. The aircraft carrier anchored a quarter-mile out into the bay was almost completely hidden. He couldn’t see it, but Gavin knew that on the flight deck a hulking figure reclined as though the ship were a sedan chair. Only the mech’s towering shoulderplates cut through the mist like colossal black shark fins.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you, huh?”

Tina Chen had appeared at Gavin’s elbow, smartly bundled up in a thick coat with the PPDC logo in reflective print on the back. The wet chill in the air was seeping through Gavin’s coveralls, an icy film on his forehead and the back of his neck. LA never used to get this cold.

“She’s certainly prettier than anyone I’ve ever dated,” Gavin said.

Tina snorted. “Didn’t think women were your thing.”

“That one is,” Gavin said, pointing out at the carrier.

Gavin wished the sun would come out, burn away the clinging damp so he could get a good look at her. Refractor Kiln, the seventh jaeger housed at SDLA, but their first Mk-IV. _His_ jaeger. He’d spent the last three months committing her schematics to memory. 255 feet tall, 1800 tons, with dual nuclear turbines and diesel-fueled hydraulic musculature. She was built for close-range combat, equipped with chest-mounted plasma canons and tungsten spiked Scylla fists. A reinforced microlattice hull made her as tough as the bulkier Russian models but without the extra weight.

She was fast and she was powerful and Gavin couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. The engineers had made her function. He would make her _sing_.

“How long you been out here? I thought rendevouz was 7:45,” Tina asked. She was his direct subordinate, now. Hand-picked not because she was the closest thing Gavin had to a best friend, but because no one in the Dome could calibrate plasma weapons faster than Chen.

“Couple minutes,” Gavin lied. He’d been on the deck for over an hour, waiting. Watching flight crews and operations managers scuttle around in the fog, preparing for the arrival of Refractor. He told himself he was “supervising”, getting a jump start on being the lead technician for a jaeger team, but truthfully they didn’t need him for this part. He just wanted to _see_ her.

“You meet the pilots yet?” Tina asked. “They came through the hangar after you left yesterday.”

“One of them, last night,” Gavin replied, recalling the bizarre exchange.

Tina nodded, asked carefully, “What did you think?”

“Weird,” Gavin said, squinting. “It was just... real weird.”

“Oh my god, they’re _so_ fucking weird,” Tina said, clearly relieved to have someone agree with her. “Even for pilots, they’re odd. You know that shit they do sometimes, when they sync up and like... they even blink at the same time?”

“Yeah.” It was common among long-time pilots to pick up idosyncracies in the Drift. Repeat unfettered access to another person’s brain had a way of breaking down the self.

“They are _next level_ ,” Tina said. She gave an exaggerated shiver. “It’s a little creepy. I bet she cloned them.”

Gavin frowned. “She?”

“Amanda.” Scuffing a boot against the deck, attempting to keep the feeling in her frozen toes, Tina said, “Dr. Stern.”

“I know her,” Gavin said. “And you know what? I’d believe it. Connor is the spitting fuckin’ image of Niles.”

“Sixty, too,” Tina said. “Definitely clones. I mean one of them is named _Sixty_ , for fuck’s sake.”

Gavin laughed, a harsh bark in the stagnant air. “What the hell kind of a name is Sixty?”

“It’s a nickname.”

Tina and Gavin both turned towards the new voice. Identical twins in identical long coats over identical black drivesuits stood a pace away, holding themselves aloof. In perfect sync, they tilted their heads at the technicians. Two pairs of deep brown eyes flicked to the name embroidered over Gavin’s breast pocket, then back to his face. Despite having met him just a handful of hours before, Gavin couldn’t have picked out which was Connor if he had a gun to his head.

“You J-tech first class Gavin Reed?” asked the lefthand twin. That one must be Sixty. He spoke like a particularly aggressive robot.

“That’s me,” Gavin said, unnerved.

“Junior Technician Chen, a pleasure to see you again,” said the righthand twin. Connor. Gavin recognized his mild-yet-condescending tone. “And you, Gavin.”

“Uh... you too,” Tina stammered. “Just Tina is fine, though.” It was a tossup whether her cheeks flushed with embarrassment for gossiping or with the chill.

“Just waiting on the chief now,” Gavin said, sticking frigid hands in his coverall pockets. He really should’ve brought his damn coat. “Once he gets here, you’ll board a chopper out to the Roosevelt, then walk my jaeger in to the hangar.”

“Yours? You do realize we’ve been with _our_ jaeger since she was a prototype,” Sixty said, dripping with disdain. “Every simulation and test run. I know it might be hard for a _tech—_ ”

Connor shot his brother a pointed look, the first motion they hadn’t done in tandem. “Maybe don’t piss off our engineer fifteen seconds into the relationship.”

Sixty looked away, sourly pursing his lips.

“He gets bitchy when he has to wait,” Connor said.

“Well, we have that in common, I guess,” Gavin muttered, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. The same antsy feeling that came before a combat launch was beginning to crawl up his spine.

As they waited, the Sterns spoke quietly, angled in exact mirror image towards each other. It was difficult not to stare. Their unfailingly symmetrical faces drew the eye. Dark hair, high cheekbones dotted with beauty marks that could have been painted on by a baroque artist. Connor had one under his left eye that Sixty did not.

Useful for telling them apart in future, Gavin thought.

Not too much later Jeff Fowler, Chief J-tech for the entire Shatterdome, appeared out of the mist like an imposing ghost. He, like Gavin, wore only his boots and coveralls, but Fowler’s were smeared with what looked like coolant.

“Morning,” he said, with typical brusqueness. He didn’t stop when he reached them, merely kept speaking as he continued towards the waiting chopper. The Sterns easily kept up with Fowler’s long strides, walking in perfect, mirrored lockstep.

“Sorry to keep y’all waiting,” Fowler said, as they started down the stairs to the lower helipad, into even thicker fog. “Turbulent blew a fuckin’ seal this morning and I’ve been cleaning that up.”

“Shit, really?” Gavin said, hurrying to keep up. “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been living in that bucket’s corroded guts for six months, I could’ve--”

“Because you’re not part of that team anymore, Reed, you’re running Refractor,” Fowler interjected. “Speaking of, why the fuck are you here and not in LOCCENT? You can’t oversee shit from the ground.”

“Technically, sir, she’s not mine til she’s berthed,” Gavin said. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to see her up close and personal first.”

“Doesn’t really matter how _I_ feel about it,” Fowler said. “It’s your op.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Teacher’s pet over here,” Tina murmured, and laughed at the surreptitious middle finger Gavin slipped her.

The chopper blades spun up as they approached, clearing the mist in great wet gusts. Gavin held a hand up to shield his eyes against the wind.

“You know the drill,” Fowler hollered over the high whine of the rotors. “Which bay we putting Refractor in?”

“Four,” Gavin shouted, holding up the same number of fingers. “Between Lucid and Turbulent.”

“Roger,” Fowler said. He turned to board the aircraft, barking over his shoulder, “Sterns, you’re with me.”

They nodded, matched dips of their perfect chins, and climbed into the chopper one after the other. Gavin and Tina backed away, watched silently as the bird took off. The fog crept back in almost immediately, moving like a sentient thing around their boots.

“This weather sucks shit,” Tina said. She was even shorter than Gavin, her topknot of black hair barely clearing the fog bank once it settled.

“No kidding,” Gavin replied, flat.

It felt like an eternity standing and waiting on the shrouded helipad. The longer it took the clammier Gavin’s hands got, the harder he bounced his heel against the tarmac.

Tina put a hand on his jittery wrist, and Gavin realized he hadn’t been breathing. “You don’t have to be this nervous,” she said.

“This is what I’ve wanted since we were in the academy, Teenie,” Gavin said. 90% true. “I can _not_ fuck this up.”

“Chief wouldn’t’ve picked you if he thought you were a fuckup,” Tina said, shrugging.

“Yeah, I guess.” He rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs, desperate to distract himself. “Hey, so, you weren’t fuckin’ kidding. The Sterns are weird as hell as a set.”

“Oh, my god, right?” Tina exclaimed, turning her entire upper body to face him. “Weirdos in stereo. It’s like they—”

A foghorn split the air, pulling their attention out to sea. Light shimmered and pulsed beneath the fog, an enormous ring of orange followed by an array of blue. Diffuse though it was through the heavy air, Gavin could match each running light to the schematic seared into his brain.

The orange light—her forward reactor turbine, the glowing heart settled under her “ribcage”—shifted and pulsed as Refractor stirred to life. Another foghorn boomed across the water, so low and so loud that Gavin it wasn’t a sound so much as a feeling it deep in his chest. 

The phantom echo of that horn reverberated around his skull in the silent that stretched across the water. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

And then she rose.

Refractor Kiln surged out of the mist, ribbons of it streaming from the soaring fins of her shoulderplates. This mech, what Gavin could see of her, had the sleeker lines of all late-model jaegers. One that had the benefit of design, engineers who had time to consider form as well as function. Fins similar to the ones on her shoulders arched back like horns from the sides of Refractor’s con pod, perched on nimble shoulders. Her shadowy black hull seemed to absorb what watery sunlight there was, the only color from her running lights and reactor turbines.

The jaeger stood still, a titan looming over the bay, silent and imposing. She loosed a third blast of that terrible, deep foghorn, a warning to any ships hidden in the gloom, and she began to walk. It was an eerie sight. With most of her lower half obscured Refractor seemed to glide towards them, a controlled sway of her shoulder fins the only indication of motion.

Tina blew out a low whistle. “This one’s going to be fun to calibrate, I can feel it.”

Water lapped at the edges of the helipad, waves thrown ahead by the jaeger’s approach. The tarmac began to tremble in time with Refractor’s steps. Gavin wanted nothing more than to stay and watch her passing, to stand on the helipad in awe for just a few more minutes.

“We need to get inside,” he said, reluctantly backing up a few paces. “I gotta be in LOCCENT before Refractor docks.”

“Right behind you,” Tina said, making absolutely no move to follow.

“Come on, Chen,” Gavin said, snapping his fingers. “Need you in the launch bay, you’ve got weapons to load up.”

That got her attention, her head snapping around in mock indignation. “Hey, just because you’re my boss now doesn’t mean you get to, you know, boss me around and shit.”

“That’s exactly what it means, actually,” Gavin said, smirking. He spared a final glance over Tina’s head. The jaeger was so close now he had to tip his chin up to see all of her.

He turned, grinning, hardly aware of the chill anymore. The thunderous footfalls of Refractor Kiln followed him into the Shatterdome, like a second heartbeat swelling beneath his own.

**Author's Note:**

> hey can y'all tell i also love evangelion. also i had no idea how to tag this, those will probably update as i post further chapters. thanks for reading :)
> 
> anyway feel free follow me on [twitter,](https://twitter.com/sheepishwolfy) where i regular shriek about... all kinds of dumb shit.


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